Neculai Fantanaru

Everything Depends On The Leader

I Admire You With The Eyes You Do Not See

On April 01, 2020
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Leadership +50% Extra by Neculai Fantanaru

What remains memorable in the moments of a great spiritual experience is what completes you.

There comes a time when you no longer need books. You are the only book that matters. All you have to do is draw an unforgettable moment from every page of your life and color it in the color of the blood that adorns the petals of a rose. This is also a kind of wisdom, the only provision for the journey from another world, perceived as a spiritual event.

For only the rose has an interesting story left to tell about man, as if it itself were a man, but above other people. And here is the unforgettable moment: the rose suddenly feels the impact of its life as something fragile and precious through the tip of the golden pen of an exceptional writer, because it acquires the status of the written word with the persistence of a deep thought about God.

Continuing to have human qualities, the rose is presented on the first page of my book, and my letters and colors turn these lines into the image of a character from 1001 nights who continues to be popular with visitors to my garden. The meaning of its reception draws attention to a passage in an alchemist’s book that describes the matter in which the process of knowledge takes place when the connoisseurs are God’s messengers.

My eyes stare at the silence of this unique moment, when my favorite rose, Double Delight, does its duty to convey what words often fail to do. I feel it looking at me, as I look at it, for its soul and my soul converse under the open sky under the deep spell of God’s voice.

This is also a kind of wisdom: to know that someone is listening to you with the same emotion, goodwill, nostalgia, with which you listen to yourself in a moment of great soul experience.

Leadership: Can you shape your creation around an image that transcends life, in terms of a look at a reality that can be understood in terms of the concept of REFLECTION?

Please take this moment of remembrance as a gift from God to one who knows how to tell a story about a rose that does not shake its petals ahead of time, enslaved to the content of an image of the principles of nature presented, in fact, in the first treatise of St. Thomas Aquinas. Somehow, I notice myself as an image viewed with the eyes of a connoisseur, but crossed with power by the creation of an artist who knows how to combine the intensities of color with the love of nature… and does it very well, since once you have passed in the world of his reality, there is no turning back.

I like it when it’s you as you were when I first saw you, not when you want to look like someone else, not when your eyes express something other than I’d like to see reflected in their beauty. Your smile still catches my eye, even though your gaze is far away. But the beautiful is never forgotten. When I looked at you gently, my voice almost dim, as if I wanted to immortalize a memory, I occupied my mind with one thought: to always be the same you. Unchanged. Sincere. Kind-hearted.

There is no difference between receiving the rose as a grace made to man without any merit, and receiving it as a mere scrolling through the pages of a book of which I am the author. In the end, the rose is the main subject of a look that found its relief, beauty, admiration, in the reflection of an artistic and literary creation that would make the Persian queen, Scheherazade, envious.

I look at you tenderly. I admire you with my eyes, eyes you do not see. I enliven you with the letters full of the holy spirit, because you are part of me, of my garden, of my moment of inspiration. So many times I thought I forgot you, because you forgot me with a story you always owe me.

Leadership: Are you able to root yourself in the memory of a dream image suggestive enough to no longer justify your duplication in the real world?

God is somewhere around here… distinguishing himself by having in addition to his form another form, adjacent to the vital sphere of a new artistic perception, becoming the embodiment of a writer who knows how to be a special rose, pleasing to the eye that delights the thrill of brown eyes. On the cover of my book, beautifully illustrated, whose background symbolizes the trust discussed between two immortal characters, only one painter could put his signature: the one who knew how to reproduce the beauty of a rose through eyes that do not take age into account, through eyes that do not judge nor suffer.

It is said that Hind, Al Neman’s daughter, was the most beautiful girl of her time, and that she was just like a gazelle in eyes, tenderness, and beauty. Or, the fame of her brilliance reached the ears of many emirs who wanted her as a wife, at the price of invaluable fortunes. But she was the one who made the choice, not her father. Rumor has it that Hind married a skilled writer who knew how to restore her immortality by transposing it into a rose whose story runs parallel to my life.
Every man has a double of his own, and if it is camouflaged in the form of a symbol, it is because we must consider the resounding part of an idea of ​​great impact: what remains memorable in moments of a great spiritual experience, is what completes you.

A glance tells the eye the details of the story that comes to life, and the same glance can guess the invisible fluctuations of feelings, it can follow the movements of the imagination or the soul. But the gaze itself cannot become a particular and complex existence, unless it travels the distance from Creation to Creator… under the spell of a writer in whose eyes, sincere, tender, an image still shines. The rose is his splendor.

A writer’s spell is activated when the chosen part of his self is interposed between the divine nature and the immortal dimension of his creation. The crowning of the rose becomes the testimony of an identity that is found in the hypostasis of an intensely spiritualized confessional lyric with any element of the real.

I Admire You With Eyes You Do Not See because you exist whenever I remember you, even if I am far from you, even if you are just a creation of my mind. What surprises me beautifully in my soul, is never forgotten in another world.

The rose is my image in another world, in another variant of reality.

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